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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27034645">Luin galad</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/firstamazon/pseuds/firstamazon'>firstamazon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works &amp; Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Fall of Nargothrond, First Age, Gen, Ghosts, Houseless Elves - Freeform, Imaginary Friends, Light Angst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:00:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,557</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27034645</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/firstamazon/pseuds/firstamazon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Finduilas' childhood is improved by the arrival of an unexpected friend.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Innumerable Stars 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Luin galad</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drag0nst0rm/gifts">Drag0nst0rm</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is not my usual take of these characters, so it was quite the challenge. I hope you like it, anyway :)</p><p>Many thanks to my dear friend Ann_arien who's constantly reading my stuff as an unasked-for beta (sorry, thanks and luv u), Keiliss for the back-and-forth of ideas, and jane_ways for her precise grammar corrections.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">Finduilas was a clever and lively child. She was also very lonely, not because there were few children in Nargothrond – the days of the Long Peace brought prosperity of all sorts – but because they weren’t <em>her</em>, she would often think ruefully. Finduilas had many responsibilities other children her age didn’t have: she had to split her time between studying – something her father had insisted most vehemently – and learning the duties of a Princess. Worst of all, she needed to be constantly guarded. The King’s niece, and heiress to the House of Arafinwë, couldn’t be left alone to run and explore the halls and caves that were one of the greatest marvels of those times.</p><p class="western">She would often listen to the lords’ children telling stories about their secret, dangerous adventures – and Finduilas regretted she would never be caught doing something naughty because there was <em>always </em>someone beside her. Her tutors. Or one or two of her father’s guards. Or her mother. Once, Finduilas thought her mother could have been her accomplice – she was a Sinda of the North, after all, not used to being locked up inside a cage – Finduilas had heard her complaining more than once: “<em>We are the peoples of the stars, no matter how brightly your caves shine above my head! </em>” Her father had won the argument, for neither her nor anyone she knew – except the scouts – were ever allowed outside of Nargothrond.</p><p class="western">At the tender age of fifteen, Finduilas was an unusually mature child. Her father often explained to her that she was being raised with everything a princess of the Noldor should have: family, a safe home, and the best education they could provide, with some of the best Noldorin scholars in Beleriand, appointed by High King Nolofinwë himself to oversee his grandniece’s evolution. Not that Finduilas cared much for it: she was a good student, but there were times she wished she could just run off and be normal.</p><p class="western">Finduilas sat in her chambers one day, watching as the world outside poured in thick droplets outside her window. All she could see of the garden below was a blur of trees and reds and yellows behind a curtain that looked more like the inner waterfalls that fell from the openings above the Great Hall and ended in the pools of crystal behind the throne. She had been lost in thought, the book of lore forgotten in her lap; something happened, then, she did not expect.</p><p class="western">A pale green flicker of light outside caught her attention. Finduilas blinked. <em> It could be just the fireflies</em>, she thought. There it was, another flicker. And another, this time in a more blueish hue than before. Another, and even brighter as if it was trying to get closer. The speck of light – or whatever it was – had Finduilas’ full attention. She sat up, frowning, and glued her nose to the glass, trying to discern better. Her breathing misted over the panel, but after some minutes of careful observation, she came to the conclusion that no animal could take that downpour and still be so gracefully floating in the air. It was like the water (or the lightning) didn’t affect it at all.</p><p class="western">A long moment passed, and Finduilas could see a round shape, and the ball of blue light flicked quicker, faintly illuminating the plants and flowers around it like it knew it had been seen and was trying to communicate. A giggle of excitement bubbled over her chest. Finduilas squirmed in her seat and struggled not to make any noise – she couldn’t tell why, but she felt it was important to be the first one to get… acquainted.</p><p class="western">“Come inside,” she whispered, hazing over the glass completely. To her utter surprise, the light went out, and the garden was left in darkness once more. “No!” She yipped, covering her mouth quickly, aware of the high-pitched sound. Indeed, her mother popped in within a second.</p><p class="western">“Finduilas, is everything alright?”</p><p class="western">“Yes!” She said promptly. “The book I was reading was really interesting.” She lifted it where the pages were still open and showed to her mother as proof of her word.</p><p class="western">Nimriel came over to the window and stroked her golden hair gently. “Enough reading for today,” she said with a smile. “Time to bed.”</p><p class="western">“Yes, emel.”</p><p class="western">Her mother kissed her forehead and left the chamber without another word. As soon as the door closed, Finduilas blinked, and to her utter astonishment, the little ball of light was dancing in front of her overjoyed eyes.</p><p class="western">“You have come! I thought you were gone!”</p><p class="western">To her delight, the light glowed stronger, and she heard its soft answer, almost as quiet as if it had said inside her own head: “You have called me.”</p><p class="western">“What are you?”</p><p class="western">“I am… lost,” it answered sadly.</p><p class="western">Finduilas thought about that for a moment. How could light be lost? She had no answer for that riddle. “Not anymore,” she said nonetheless, smiling, and reached out her cupped hands. The light came to rest upon them, and it felt odd – the core was warm as a hearth, but the edges were cooler. “Don’t worry,” Finduilas smiled. “I have you now.”</p><p class="western">***</p><p class="western">From that day on, people would say that the princess had acquired the strange habit of talking to the trees, the flowers, and the birds. “She is so alone, poor thing,” they would say. If they only knew! Since the blue light appeared in her life, Finduilas had never again been alone. The little luin galad, she called it. And as the time they spent together grew, the luin galad once told her:</p><p class="western">“I think I am a boy.”</p><p class="western">She looked up at its blueish glow and cocked her head. “How so?”</p><p class="western">“I am not… like you,” it seemed to smile.</p><p class="western">Finduilas grinned back. “You can be whatever you want, and you will still be my best friend!” The Galad flickered several times like it was laughing. “In fact, you can be my brother… you know… if you want to,” she mumbled uncertainly. She had always wanted to have a brother or sister. </p><p class="western">The luin galad wrapped itself around Finduilas’ wrist and traveled along her body, tickling her and making her giggle.</p><p class="western">So it was that Finduilas and her new brother – that she now addressed as Galad – straightened a most unusual bond, for the mote of light was invisible to other people’s eyes. Her brother asked her to show him the famous halls, but she pouted and complained that she was not allowed, and that her life was a boring mix of chores and duties.</p><p class="western">“If I could, dear sister, I would gladly assume the responsibilities of the kingdom if it meant you had a little more freedom.”</p><p class="western">Finduilas found that she would like to hug him if Galad had a body of his own. As it was, with that promise in mind, she started spending more and more time with him, neglecting her studies. Her tutors were worried about the sudden change from dedicated to rebellious pupil. Instead of studying, Finduilas would often be found running around, laughing, and playing alone – as it seemed. When her parents asked about her lessons, Finduilas brightly answered:</p><p class="western">“Galad is taking care of everything, for one day <em>he </em>will be king!”</p><p class="western">A proud, uplifted chin and sincerity did nothing to erase the worried look on her parents’ faces.</p><p class="western">“Who is Galad, sweetheart?” Her mother asked patiently.</p><p class="western">When Finduilas tried to explain what had happened, and how she had found Galad and how he had become her brother, her parents stared at each other for so long she thought they had become one with the stone walls. They clearly saw to that statement more than it was, for they also exchanged smiles that she couldn’t decipher. Her father turned to her and beckoned with his hand.</p><p class="western">Finduilas sat by his side, and he took her small hand between his big ones, before saying: “I know how life may be lonely here for you, my sweet. But you must understand that your mother and I cannot bring another child into the world now. We may be at peace, but the enemy is not vanquished; war brews beyond our borders,” he added with a serious tone that Finduilas didn’t quite understand either – Orodreth rarely spoke of such matters to her mother or to her.</p><p class="western">But, then, she frowned. Why was he telling her this? She didn’t want another <em>child</em>, she already had her brother! She said that to him, and Orodreth was appalled, claiming Finduilas needed to stop this made-up fantasy and pick up her studies.</p><p class="western">“But ada,” she argued, “I can see him! He talks to me! He is a little ball of blue light, and he told me that–”</p><p class="western">“Enough,” her father commanded. “I will hear no more of this nonsense, Finduilas.”</p><p class="western">It was the end of the conversation, and she had left the chamber crying, for not even her mother had believed her. That day, as in all others, Galad’s presence comforted her, and she could feel his arms about her shoulders, a ghostly touch petting her hair and whispering that it would be alright. Finduilas looked up, and through the blur of tears, she saw that the luin galad of light had split into two, melted into a pair of crystal blue eyes, a little paler than hers, and set in a face as fair as her uncle’s. His hair radiant like the sun, very straight, fell in his face like liquid gold. She widened her eyes, and her brother smiled.</p><p class="western">She could <em>see </em>him, actually see him! She jumped and cried with joy. “Galad! Galad, little brother, you are finally here!” She tried to engulf him in a hug, but her arms passed right through him – she felt a little displacement of air, warmer where he stood, but still very incorporeal to be real.</p><p class="western">Her face fell and she looked dispirited again. A soft brush touched her chin. “Don’t be sad, sister, for it is thanks to your will and thought that I was given this form.</p><p class="western">“But you are not <em>really </em>here!” She whispered, a thick tear trickling down her cheek.</p><p class="western">Galad smiled. “I am here,” he placed his hand on the place above her heart, “and here,” he put a finger in her forehead. “It is enough.”</p><p class="western">***</p><p class="western">It had to be enough, and so Finduilas conformed with her brother’s fate. Each day that passed, though, Galad seemed more <em>solid</em>. One day, he suggested that they should discover the glistening halls the other children always talked about. They sneaked out of the library and into the uncharted caves that were still being dug up, and both marveled at the thousand stalactites and stalagmites that spiked from the rock, the constant music of tinkling water, and the glitter of precious stones of all the colors they could think of.</p><p class="western">Finduilas stared ahead, in wonder, and with the corner of her eye, she saw her brother, already taller than her, broad shoulders and lean like an athlete. She knew that if she looked straight at him, she would see <em>through </em>him. But like this… he was real. So very real! She smiled to herself until a noise drew her attention. By one of the pools of dark water sat a dark figure. It was hunched, covered with a cloak. Finduilas approached cautiously and heard muttering words. It was a woman, her head bowed, but unlike any other Finduilas had seen, gray hair falling over her face.</p><p class="western">The woman raised her eyes, and Finduilas gasped. They were white, lifeless, and yet they stared inside her very soul. The woman was white as marble, and her hands were bony, not like the Eldar’s, and they shook when she raised them. She was… Finduilas had no name for it. Her skin was wrinkled like she had spent too long inside that pool, and her cheekbones were flaccid.</p><p class="western">“Hello, lady,” she said cheerfully; she was the princess after all, and had a duty to her uncle’s subjects, whoever they were. The woman didn’t answer, so she tried again. Finduilas felt when Galad came to stand by her side. “Are you lost? We can help you go back to the fortress.”</p><p class="western">“You!” The woman pointed at her brother, then, and Finduilas’ jaws dropped. “You are the missing piece of the puzzle.” Finduilas was so shocked someone else could see him that she merely stared, in awe, and was about to ask more when the woman continued in a worn, croaked voice. “Do not ever leave her side. When the time comes, you will be the star upon the Earth to which your people will look up to!”</p><p class="western">Finduilas turned to him with an enormous smile on her face. “I told you, brother! You are meant to be king!”</p><p class="western">But Galad didn’t smile. Through him, Finduilas could still see the glitter of the caves, and they shone especially bright where his heart stood. He looked seriously at the woman and then at Finduilas. “First, I need to <em> be</em>, Fin.”</p><p class="western">Finduilas didn’t know what to say to that. She moved to place her hand above his. If he was really there, she would squeeze it and tell him everything would be alright. They would find a way for him to be. Finduilas turned to ask the woman what else she knew, but to her even greater surprise, the woman was gone. She blinked repeatedly, looking around in dismay. Had she just imagined that? It could not be, for the look on Galad’s face was stern like never before. They returned to the palace in silence and never more spoke of it again.</p><p class="western">***</p><p class="western">He opened his eyes slowly like someone waking from a dream. Was it a dream? He could see nothing as he laid on his back. Once the thought dawned on him, he blinked very fast. He laid <em>on his back</em>, such a real feeling that his heart – his fast-thumping heart! – nearly stopped. Very slowly, he raised hands that touched a body, a face, limbs. He put them on the ground beside him and scratched, plucking earth and grass with it. He breathed in, allowing the scents around him to fill his recently-discovered lungs. Scents of things he had merely known by word and association reached his nostrils: grass blades, wet dirt, iron, and fire. <em> Fire</em>.</p><p class="western">Then, he remembered.</p><p class="western">Nargothrond was no more. First, there was the Man. Galad didn’t like him much, but his sister did. It didn’t matter how many times he had warned her that the Mormegil would only bring them woe, even if his counsel was well-meant. From the beginning, his words bode ill, but Finduilas paid Galad no mind. She neglected the betrothed returned to her when all hope had been lost, and now Nargothrond was no more. Beside his sister, he had witnessed as fire descended upon them, and the Man faced the drake in a muted challenge and had allowed the orcs to take her!</p><p class="western">Galad had lost conscience the moment they took her. He knew not what had happened, but something definitely had separated him from his sister’s mind, and, somehow, it had made him whole. He laid for a while longer, absorbing the smells and noises of the night – he didn’t know where he was, only that it was pitch black; he could vaguely see his hand moving in front of his eyes. But Galad knew he wasn’t inside the safe halls of Nargothrond, now burned and sacked.</p><p class="western">He forced his new body to sit up. Where was she? He couldn’t feel his sister’s mind within his anymore, and that was all so very strange. Suddenly a thought struck him as a well-aimed arrow. He needed to find her. Galad scrambled to his feet, wobbly legs failing him once or twice until he could finally stand. He blinked again and discerned trees: he was likely in the middle of a glade. But the air was still and silent. Not even the crickets could be heard.</p><p class="western">Stumbling through the trees, Galad felt like an invisible hand guided him, pointing the way to a bigger tree that stood out, closer to a road along a river – which ones he could not guess. As he approached, the water sprayed in violence, like a shout of a thousand angry voices. Galad’s heart clenched ominously in his chest. From afar, and even in the dark, he could sense a thin thread of conscience. He followed the smell of tramped grass and orcs and blood, heedless of the danger. Until, when the moon unhid his pale face, Galad saw with creeping horror the silhouette of a figure slumping off the tree, held only by the spear that pinned it, pale hair hanging like ghostly banners.</p><p class="western">“Finduilas!” He cried hoarsely. He reached out tremorous hands and grabbed her shoulders; her head lolled back and forth, and he swallowed hot bile. Her dress, once white, was torn and ragged, the hair was dirty, and her face bruised, but her eyes…! Galad gasped to see the light and fierceness that still shone within them. “Sister,” he whispered and realized his cheeks were wet.</p><p class="western">“Gal…” She whispered back.</p><p class="western">“Shh, shh, don’t speak,” he said desperately, trying to withdraw the spear, but she screamed in pain, blood splattered in his hands. “Fin, I’m sorry, I’m sorry...”</p><p class="western">“Go… South,” her voice cracked, whizzed breath coming out in pants. “Find… Círdan. Of the Havens.”</p><p class="western">“No! No, I won’t leave you!” Galad brushed her hair back and held her head close against his chest.</p><p class="western">When Galad withdrew to look at her again, the light in Finduilas’ eyes had gone dim and stared blankly at him. A nauseating feeling took hold of Galad, and he swayed forward, mind threatening to shut against the horrors done to his fair sister. A fluttering light above her head caught his eyes: her fëa flickered vividly, a gold shimmer of light that refused to leave his side. She was refusing Mandos’ call.</p><p class="western">Galad knew what he had to do. He drew a deep breath, kissed his sister’s forehead. The golden core rested trustingly on his extended hands, and he took it to his mouth, swallowing it whole. A pleasant warmth spread through his body, limbs, heart, to the tip of his hair, and he sighed. He didn’t feel, however, his sister’s conscience like before. She was there, inside him, he knew it – but the connection they once shared was forever lost.</p><p class="western">***</p><p class="western">As Galad was about to remove Finduilas’ body from the tree trunk, he heard shuffling feet, the noise of weapons, and shouts of battle too close to where they were. The wooshing sound of arrows flying everywhere – and the grunts and gurgles of the hit targets – made Galad look about them in panic. In the dark, there was no telling friend from foe. Torn between leaving his sister’s body to the carrion – or worst, to the defilement of orcs – or to risk her last wishes, Galad’s fate was decided by the blow of a horn echoing in the woods.</p><p class="western">It was not Elvish, but it was not from the Enemy, either. Men. Blessed and accursed, the Edain charged. Hope kindled. <em> Mormegil, wherever you are, look </em><em>for </em><em>my sister </em><em>and regain your honor!</em>he sent the resented thought into the night. A fallen archer up the road ahead provided him boots that didn’t fit, trousers, a torn shirt, and a muddied cloak. He didn’t care how awkward he would look poorly dressed as one of the Secondborn, but it was enough to run away from the battle as swiftly and as discreetly as he could.</p><p class="western">Galad went ever South, asking wanderers and small villagers for Círdan’s dwellings. At last, tired and alone, he arrived in the Isle of Balar and was received as a refugee. He was brought to Círdan’s presence, and even in his deplorable state, Galad poised himself with pride and power.</p><p class="western">“I am a brother to Princess Finduilas of Nargothrond,” Galad announced, raising his chin and defying anyone who would say otherwise.</p><p class="western">Indeed, the Shipwright had no knowledge that Orodreth had had another child, let alone a male. But the boy – for Galad was still so very young to his eyes – had the hair and the eyes of his Vanyarin family, and the fire that raged behind them was, undoubtedly, the heritage of Finwë’s blood. Círdan looked intently at him.</p><p class="western">“Yes, I see you indeed are a scion of kings, my lad. What news from your home and from the king?”</p><p class="western">“The king is fallen, as is my sister,” his voice faltered. Galad bit his lips and swallowed back the tears. “Nargothrond is no more.”</p><p class="western">As he explained the Doom that had befallen, Círdan, both ancient and noble, frowned and at last sighed heavily.</p><p class="western">”Alas that you shall be the last of your house. Come now. Put aside your grief and be welcomed.”</p><p class="western">And welcomed he was, indeed, by the Shipwright and the court of Balar, who accepted Galad as their long lost prince. Later, due to his impressive prowess in battle, tactic mind, and brilliant capacity for leadership, Galad gained an epithet to accompany his name; and when Gondolin fell and the crown of the Noldor passed on to him, he adopted the full form by which he was henceforth known, indeed becoming the radiant star of his people.</p>
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